An Unexpected Party
by Tommi Gunn
Summary: AU Summer before CoS. Uncle Vernon was not prepared to find out that his new business contacts, the Grangers, had a witch in the family, and Harry gets the wildest birthday party of his life. No pairings.
1. Letters Lost

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and am making no money off of this. All standard disclaimers apply.

Author's Note: This chapter has been revised and reposted. Chapter two should be up soon. Sorry about the delay :/

Chapter 1: Letters Lost

I

Years later, when Harry Potter was inclined to look back on his life with all of the wisdom that adulthood would bring, he would not finger his 12th birthday as his best one ever. That honor would fall to his 23rd, an affair which ended in one of the partygoers accidentally portkeying to the top of Big Ben, a whole slew of legal citations from the Ministry of Magic, and six Public Drunkenness citations from the muggle police. However, his 12th birthday would run a close second. It would be the most fantastic, fun filled night of his short life, setting the bar for years to come.

Of course, it didn't start out that way.

The summer since his return from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been far more enjoyable than all of his years of living with his aunt and uncle combined, but it was still hell compared to life at Hogwarts. For the most part, Harry was left to his own devices, as long as Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could pretend that he didn't exist. During the day this was rather easy. Uncle Vernon left for work just after breakfast, and Dudley spent the majority of his time pretending to be out at the park with his mates, but really over at Piers Polkiss's house with the rest of his gang because Piers' parents both worked and it left them free to do whatever they pleased. Aunt Petunia was home more often than not, but she was easy to avoid as long as Harry stayed in his room. She had given up coming in to vacuum in there after a single week of summer.

In fact, nobody went into Harry's room except for Harry himself. Before getting his Hogwarts letter, Harry had lived in the cupboard under the stairs, and the bedroom had been a repository of broken things and toys that Dudley had lost interest in. After seeing that his Hogwarts letter was, in fact, addressed to the occupant of the cupboard under the stairs, Petunia had become afraid that they were being watched, and had given the second bedroom to Harry as an attempt to save face. Now, his school books littered the bed and nightstand, his trunk lay open on the floor, its contents strewn about the room. Hedwig's cage sat open and empty on top of the dresser. At first, Uncle Vernon had tried locking the owl in the cage and forbidding Harry from letting her out to hunt, but it had taken less than two days of nigh constant screeching for him to rethink his plan.

The small, crowded room had become something of a sanctuary for the young wizard. Long evenings and rainy days were spent there, working on his summer homework and tinkering with the things that his cousin had long since discarded. Nice days were spent outside, wandering the neighborhood, although he had to be careful to avoid Dudley and his gang. Early on, Harry had made a mental note to exchange some of his galleons into muggle pounds the next summer, because the Dursleys certainly didn't give him any pocket change. He was lucky, he figured, that they didn't care what he took from the icebox, as long as he didn't eat his meals with them. In fact, they didn't much care what he did, as long as he did it _elsewhere. _Out of sight, out of mind, Harry thought as he descended the stairs for breakfast on Saturday morning.

"Alright then," Uncle Vernon was surveying the kitchen, a dark gleam in his eye. Dudley sat at the table, munching on a rather large slice of cake and paying his father no attention whatsoever. "This is an extremely important dinner." Harry rolled his eyes. Uncle Vernon had been planning this dinner party with his new clients for two weeks now. He was expecting to close a very important deal with it, and it had been made very clear to Harry that he would be neither seen nor heard while company was around.

Of course, Harry didn't mind being banished to his room all that much. It was far better than having the Dursleys tell everyone that he was attending St. Brutus's Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.

"Petunia," Uncle Vernon's beady little eyes focused on his wife. "At 7:30, where will you be?"

"I'll be in the lounge, waiting to welcome our guests into our home." Petunia gestured grandly with a teacup that she was washing, putting on a winning, incredibly fake, smile.

"Excellent." Uncle Vernon rubbed his hands together, before pointing at Dudley. "And you?"

"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley smiled around his mouthful of chocolate cake, the frosting of which was stuck around him mouth like clown makeup. "May I take your coats? It is so nice to meet you."

"_Precisely!_ You'll be chatting with their daughter while your mother fixes drinks for the parents."

"The new game system is set up in my room already." Dudley assured him. "She won't be bored."

"Wonderful." Uncle Vernon turned a dark look on Harry. "And where will you be through all of this?"

"I'll be in my room." Harry replied. "Making no noise and pretending that I don't exist."

"Exactly." Uncle Vernon growled. "There is no need for them to find out about your… _freakishness._" Harry ground his teeth. "Now Petunia," Vernon turned his attention away from his nephew. "At 8:05?"

"I'll announce dinner." Petunia replied.

By this point, Harry had heard enough. He picked up his plate and cup and made his way upstairs to eat in his room, a habit that the Dursleys had been encouraging throughout the summer. Below, he could barely make out the sounds of his aunt and uncle as they continued to scheme on what compliments to pay during dinner in order to give the best impression.

He set his plate down on the desk he had cleared off at the beginning of summer, now cluttered with essays on Cheering potions and the uses of Lamia teeth. On top, there lay a half completed letter. Harry frowned at it, before gently setting it to the side, a heavy feeling filling his chest.

Before leaving Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione had promised to write to him. Since coming back to the Dursleys, he had not received a single letter, and it was starting to get to him. He had written Ron, Hermione, and even Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper twice a week like clockwork since the end of term, and he had not gotten a single response.

He supposed that they were quite busy, but they had _promised_ to write to him. He had thought that Ron and Hermione were more than fair weather friends. The three of them had taken out a cave troll, protected the sorcerer's stone from the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, _and_ managed to pass all of their exams at the end of the year. It hurt to think that his so called friends really didn't care about him as much as he though. In fact, the more that he thought about it, the more pressure welled up inside of him like he was a bullet preparing to be fired from a gun. Ron and Hermione couldn't be so busy that they forgot his birthday, could they? They couldn't be so busy that they wouldn't send him a single note all summer long?

He felt his eyes beginning to prickle a bit, and he wiped at them furiously. A loud peal of laughter echoed up through the open window. Uncle Vernon was practicing the jokes that he had prepared for the evening, and Harry had never felt more alone. He almost wished that he was downstairs laughing with his family. Almost.

Harry finished his breakfast, grabbed the latest book that he had salvaged from the piles of junk Dudley had left in the room, and left. At least in the park he wouldn't have to listen to his relatives' raucous laughter all day.

II

If one were to enter Hermione Granger's bedroom in her parents' home, they would likely be under the impression that they had entered the family's library by mistake. Bookshelves lined three of the four walls, with one reserved for a chest of drawers and a large picture window overlooking the backyard. A neatly made bed was shoved into the far corner, and a large rectangular table covered in books, papers, and diagrams dominated the center of the room. At that particular moment, Hermione was sprawled out on her bed, ink bottle balanced precariously on her pillow, carefully scratching away at a sheet of parchment.

_**Dear Harry,**_

_**I hope that your summer holiday is going well. My family just got back from a trip to Spain. Have you ever been there? It is quite lovely, and the food is delicious. How are your relatives treating you? I can hardly wait for school to start again. Have you gotten your supply list yet? My parents are planning a trip to Diagon Alley for the second weekend in August, and we would really like it if you could come with us. We would even be able to pick you up, if that would make it easier on your aunt and uncle. Ron and his family will be going then as well. **_

_**I realize that this letter is probably going to be a little bit late, so belated happy birthday, Harry. I hope that you're having fun this summer. **_

Hermione paused and frowned, skimming through the letter again, deeming it unsatisfactory, crumpling it up, and tossing it across the room to the garbage can. It missed, and joined half a dozen other balls of parchment on the floor. She shot a glance at the clock, rolled out of bed, and ran to her closet to change.

"Come _on, _Hermione." Mrs. Granger shouted up the stairs. "You said that you would be ready in five minutes."

"I'm almost done, mum!" She called down stairs.

"If you don't hurry up we are going to be late."

Hermione finished tugging the dress over her head and ran a hand over her hair, before turning and leaving the room.

"Honestly, Mum." She sighed as she tromped down the stairs. "I don't understand why I have to come. I would much rather stay home and catch up on some reading."

"Like you have done anything other than 'catch up on some reading' since you've been back." Mrs. Granger reached out and tried to smooth down her daughter's unruly hair. "I swear, you've been home for six weeks and your father and I have barely seen you for two. It is high time that you got some socializing in."

"Yes, because dinner with one of Dad's business contacts is exactly the sort of socializing that I need." Hermione sniffed.

"They have a son who is about your age." Mr. Granger said as he came through the door tying his tie. "Perhaps the two of you will have something in common."

"Like what? Transfiguration homework?"

Mr. Granger raised an eyebrow at her. "Isn't transfigurations the one where you made teacups dance?"

Hermione sighed. "No, Dad. That is charms."

"Oh, right. Right."

"Look, sweetheart," Mrs. Granger interrupted. "It is only for an evening, and then you can write letters to your friends to your heart's content."

Hermione stiffened fractionally. There were days that she wished that her mother didn't know her as well as she did. It had been six weeks since she had come back from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and during that time she had not heard a single word from or about her best friend, Harry Potter.

She had been in almost constant contact with Ron Weasley, her other best friend, and he had not heard a word from Harry either. This was troublesome because before the summer holiday had started, Ron had been talking about having Harry over for a while before school started back up again and Harry had seemed quite enthusiastic about the prospect. From what Harry had told them about his relatives (which wasn't much), anywhere would have been preferable to staying with them, and Hermione thought that he would jump at the chance to get away.

Her parents had tried to persuade her that Harry was just busy with his friends from home, but Hermione was afraid that the real explanation was much more sinister.


	2. Best Laid Plans

Chapter 2: Best Laid Plans

I

Harry blinked up at the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the leaves above him, wondering vaguely what it was that he was forgetting. From the grittiness of his eyes and the pounding of his head, he had fallen asleep for quite some time, not even considering going back to Private Drive for lunch, as the dull ache in his stomach reminded him. Maybe if he could grab something from the fridge before the Dursleys sat down for dinner if he ran back fast enough, or else waited long enough to salvage some leftovers….

He sat up with a start.

The Dursleys.

The dinner.

The business dinner.

Sweet Merlin, they were going to kill him.

He glanced at his watch. The watch wasn't actually Harry's, but one that Dudley had discarded some time previously and Harry had gotten working that summer. It had wasn't working anymore. The time read 10:46 in the morning. It was not 10:46 in the morning.

He had no way to know what time it was. A litany of worries coursed through his mind. The Dursleys' guests were scheduled to arrive at 7:30, but they might be a couple minutes early. He couldn't go in if they were there; Uncle Vernon would murder him if he did. His shoes were muddy. He had to use the bathroom. In the distance, a church bell rang seven times.

Seven o'clock.

Harry ran as fast as his skinny, twelve year old legs would carry him, not even noticing the large, green eyes watching him from the trees.

The park was far away from Private Drive. Far enough away that Dudley's gang rarely visited it. Too far away. His lungs and legs burned with the effort. _Heck of a way to spend your birthday, eh Harry?_ He cut through Mrs. Figg's back yard (She was away on holiday, otherwise Harry would be sitting in her living room looking at pictures of cats right now), before leaping over the hedge and skidding to a halt in front of the back door. He slipped his muddy sneakers off and tiptoed into the kitchen.

The clock read 7:23. Harry breathed a soft sigh of relief. He turned to enter the hallway, but was blocked by Uncle Vernon's formidable bulk.

"Just. What. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Playing. At?" The man's face was turning deep red and spittle flew from his mouth as he glared at his nephew.

"I'm sorry! I dozed off-" Harry tried to explain, knowing that it was useless.

"Get up stairs. Now."

Harry did as he was told, taking the steps two at a time and not even bothering with the light, merely dropping on to his bed, trying to calm his still-ragged breathing. Downstairs, the doorbell rang. He could hear Uncle Vernon's booming voice and Aunt Petunia's shrill laughter, almost wishing that he was downstairs with them.

Almost.

Hedwig swooped back in through his open window, letterless. She perched on the bed's footboard and hooted softly at him.

"You are actually delivering my letters, aren't you?" He asked the bird jokingly. She turned an eye on to him that said he should know better than to ask such questions, and flew out the window again.

"Oh, come on…" Even his bird was abandoning him.

Oh yeah, this was shaping up to be the best birthday ever.

"Happy birthday, Harry." He whispered to himself before laying back down and throwing an arm over his eyes. Maybe he could sleep the pain away.

II

At precisely 7:28pm, Hermione Granger found herself on the front steps of Number 4, Private Drive sandwiched between her parents as her mother attempted once again to smooth down her frizzy brown hair.

"Really, dear. You'd think something could be done about this mess." Mrs. Granger grumbled as her husband rang the doorbell.

"Gee, thanks mum." Hermione muttered darkly as the door was opened by what she was almost sure was actually a giant beach ball that had been shoved into a suit.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger," The beach ball schmoozed. "Welcome to our home. Can I take your coats?"

"Why certainly, young man." Mr. Granger smiled affably.

The trio was ushered into the living room, where a thin, horsefaced woman poured her parents glasses of wine before handing the girl a glass of soda. Hermione wasn't allowed soda at home, _it will rot your teeth, dear,_ and so took a sip, ignoring her parents disapproving glances.

"If you two youngsters want to go off and play, feel free." A voice boomed from the foyer. Hermione was once again taken aback by the man's sheer _roundness._ That must be where the walking beach ball got it from. "Dudley here's got that new video game system- what was it called, dear? Anyways, it is upstairs if you're interested."

Hermione glanced between the hopeful face of the walking beach ball (Now properly identify as a human being named Dudley) and her parents, who were starting a conversation about golf with Mrs. Dursley.

"I'd love to."

Dudley grinned at her and led her towards the stairs. "I've even got the new Mario game."

Hermione had a general idea of who Mario was, (she had lived and gone to school in the muggle world for eleven years, after all), but had never actually played the game before. Her parents had insisted that video game systems would rot her brain, and none of her friends had had one either. Still, she was curious as to what the game entailed.

"You can be Mario if you want." Dudley offered generously. "I'll play Luigi."

"I've never actually played before." Hermione confessed. "Maybe you could give me a demonstration of how it is done."

Dudley grinned wide. He had never had a girl willing to watch him play video games before. This was going to be the best night ever.

III

Miles away in a castle somewhere in Scotland, Albus Dumbledore's evening was not going any better than either of his students'. In fact, it was going considerably worse. An alarm shrieked from the device in front of him, causing the light of the fire to flicker on and off. Dumbledore ignored it, waiting for his visitor to arrive. A letter lay open on the desk in front of him.

"You asked to see me, Headmaster?" The potions master neglected to knock. Dumbledore didn't mind.

"I did indeed, Severus." The headmaster replied. Snape waited in tense silence for several moments until it became clear that Dumbledore was not planning on breaking his silence any time soon.

"I was just at dinner with Lucious Malfoy." Snape prompted. Dumbledore made a quiet noise of acknowledgment, but did not reply. "I hope that I can come up with a convincing excuse for running back here during the middle of drinks so that he does not become suspicious about my association with you." Dumbledore made the same low huff in his throat, but still did not respond. "CAN YOU TURN OFF THAT BLASTED NOISE!"

Dumbledore looked up for the first time since he had sent for Severus and blinked. He waved his hand and the shrieking ceased and the fireplace stopped flickering. "My apologies, dear boy. I have merely been considering the possibilities."

"What possibilities?" Snape asked. He was long used to prying information out of the old man.

"I have a letter here from Molly Weasley." Dumbledore replied. "She has some concerns about the fact that young Mr. Potter has yet to answer any letters from her son. Apparently, before school ended there had been some talk of him visiting The Burrow for a week or so at the end of break."

"Headmaster, if we raised concern over every twelve year old who got too distracted by their summer holidays to write to their friends, we would worry ourselves to death." Snape sighed. "I am sure that the boy is too busy running around a beach somewhere to remember a half baked promise made months ago."

Dumbledore grunted again, giving the potions master a disappointed frown. "Possibly, Severus, but I have found the boy much more attentive than that."

"Clearly, you have not had the boy in Potions class."

"Even so," Dumbledore carried on, not deigning to respond to Snape's remarks. "I would rather be certain that the boy is alright, and I would like you to go and keep an eye on him for a few days. Arabella Figg has been on vacation these past few weeks, and she has agreed to allow you to stay at her house for the duration. Your partner is already waiting."

"My partner?" Snape's stomach sank. He worked alone. Always had, always would.

"Indeed." Dumbledore's eye's twinkled in the firelight. "You remember Remus Lupin, of course."

IV

To be continued…

Sorry about the major delay. I hit a major plot wall while writing this, but things are much, much better planned out now. Chapter three will be up ASAP.


End file.
